Thundercats!

Well, it's official! I have my motorcycle license. Looking back, I'm not quite sure what I was expecting when I embarked on this endeavor, except to say that I was very probably spurred on my the amazing bucket-list-item-completion rate accomplished by my Aunt Carol. She is one of those people who says, I think it'd be cool to fly a plane. So she does. And I think it'd be fun to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. So she does. And I'm (this is me talking now) a little fed up with myself and my comfort zone. So, I think ultimately, I wanted to ride because I could. Why not? And I really wanted the satisfaction that goes along with saying that I did it. It's the same satisfaction that comes from climbing 14ers. Let's be honest, nobody really does that for the journey so much as the destination. There was a lingering thought in the back of my mind that I may just fall in love with riding and buy a bike and a matching helmet and jacket and be that girl. But if I had stopped to think about it, I would have remembered that I'm the kind of person that only likes the adrenaline rush if I'm not in charge of the controls.

After the first hour of riding, my nerves were definitely running amok. I was picturing myself handing in my helmet and calling it quits. You have never seen such a blatantly awful motorcycle rider. It wasn't fun, it wasn't freeing, it wasn't really much of anything positive. And so, regardless of what my intentions were to begin the class, my intention after that first hour was to see it through if only to prove to myself that I could do it. Forget any thought of buying a motorcycle. Forget the matching helmet and jacket. I just wanted to make it through the 16 range exercises and the riding exam without dropping the bike. I wanted outside of my comfort zone and I sure got it. And then some.

I was granted a short reprieve when day two was rained out and rescheduled for a week later. That gave me a whole week to psych myself up for the riding exam (the written exam was a piece of cake, by the way, and was finished on day 1). Perfect weather greeted myself and my seven classmates as we got to the range on Saturday morning. One guy had gotten off work an hour before, so despite my sleepless night, I felt like I was in better shape than him. I won't take you through all the remaining exercises, except to tell you that accelerating out of turns is definitely the reason people ride. It's a rush, even at 15-20 mph. And I will admit to being the only rider who hit the "car" during the swerve exercises. Did I mention I was awful? Don't worry, it wasn't an actual car.

The time for the exam came, and I knew the hardest part would be my U-turns, performed to the left, then the right, in a box the size of a closet. Left turn, no problem, right turn...let's just say it's a good thing the box boundaries were paint lines and not brick walls. I blasted right through it. +3 points. (The riding exam is scored from a zero. Each infringement is worth positive points and you have to score less than a 20 to pass). The swerve part of the exam went just fine, thank you very much. In fact, everything else on the exam went just fine. I ended with a 3rd-best 3 points. I won't tell you how my coworker scored, but everyone in the class passed.

After a short (ha!) trip to the DMV, I'm now official. Although, I could kick myself for taking my camera on day two and not getting any pictures. So, the only one I have to give you is a sample of the motorcycle I rode on day two. That's pretty much it, correct color and all, except mine didn't have a sideview mirror. I'm gonna try to go back to the range and catch the class on a riding day and ask to borrow a bike for a pic. Otherwise, my mom will leave me out of the Christmas letter.

So, bottom line, face your fears and knock something off that bucket list!

For Hilary, who needs a distraction from productivity

Ok, so it's apparently been a while since I've graced the internet world with my presence. So, before I fall asleep at the keyboard (I need a nap), I'll try to write something worthwhile. Here are some random musings for a Monday afternoon:

*New Year's Resolution update: my resolution was to go one place I'd never been and try three new things (preferably things that stretch my comfort zone). I've been to several new places, courtesy of Peter and Jenny's wedding (see previous blog on Minneapolis) and mostly a kick-butt European cruise. Morocco, the Canary Islands, Madeira, and Spain (Granada and Barcelona) have been knocked off the list.


And, as far as me trying new things go, I'm well on my way to knocking out that goal. I'm shooting for major firsts here, so I won't count trying escargot or logging my first Bud Light at age 26. But Speed Dating in February and my upcoming Motorcycle Classes definitely count. The 3rd item is TBD, but I promise, I'll deserve a pat on the back when it's done.

*I'm super-stoked for summer movies. Notably, the last installment of the brilliant HP franchise which will hopefully portray the end of the series with due diligence. And of course, in a million years I couldn't dream up the genius of James Bond and Indiana Jones in a Firefly-esque Cowboys and Aliens. It may tide me over until the next Bond movie. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they figure out how to salvage the winning Bond formula and overcome the fiasco of Quantum of Solace. For those who liked QoS, it wasn't a bad movie, just a terrible Bond movie, especially on the heels of Casino Royale.

*The Bashin' Bastians continue the dominance. My kickball team is the biggest mess of hodge-podge players I've ever met. No offense to my team, I think you all are great. I'm just referring to the fact that I never thought I'd end up captaining what is essentially the free-agent team. Especially after playing on the free-agent team last year and suffering the biggest absence of team unity that I have ever endured in my 22 years of team sports. I was so certain I could come up with my own rag-tag team to play, and instead fell about 7 players short. Thanks to 5 free agents and some nice recruiting on the part of my teammates, we now have a solid 14 who have contributed to a league-leading 6-1 record. And a couple fun happy hour outings. Still probably not enough positives to convince me to captain again in the near future. On a sports-related side note- props to Organized Chaos for a well-deserved championship in flag football! That's three championships in 8 leagues for me since I moved back from Omaha.

*I found someone at work who has an equally shameful degree of arachnophobia. We spent our lunch break on Sunday swapping spider stories and laughing at our own illogical hysteria. She was arguing with a friend at a bar about the severity of a black widow bite. He said it was fatal, she claimed that if you were healthy enough and large enough to begin with, you would be miserable for many hours, but would likely survive. To boost her argument, she tried to google black widow venom on her phone, not realizing that pictures would likely ensue. When a picture of a black widow filled the screen, she screamed and threw the phone across the bar. Someone else had to retrieve the phone and clear the screen before she would take it back. I think that's right up there with me waking my parents up in the middle of the night sobbing, my mom panicking and asking if there was an intruder, and my dad sitting up calmly and asking if there was a spider. Yup, we're pathetic. Also at work yesterday, my own minor version of "substantial but temporary" damage as I squirt myself in the eye with alcohol (isopropyl, not of the drinking variety). It burns, but washes out ok. Also speaking of alcohol on my face, turns out I'm not the only one who spits out beer at Old Chicago. Several weeks ago, my pizza was rendered inedible when someone next to me said something that was funnier then than it is now and beer came out my nose. Last week, a coworker repeated the offense, only instead of spraying his pizza, he made it all the way across the table onto me. Fun times. See, we don't need drunken sign language to keep us entertained.

Ok, I think that's enough. I'm ready for my nap. Buying a new lawn mower will have to wait until later. And I'll try to update my blog more often for the five people who read it.

Welcome Home

While I was cruising around the Mediterranean, Mom and Dad turned Kolbe into a new dog. Apparently the anxiety of being kennel-bound for several hours a day resulted in excessive jumping and trying to crawl into my lap when he wasn't in said kennel. Twelve days of no kennel = calm, sweet dog. We tried for the first time leaving Kolbe free to roam the house while I was at work yesterday. Apparently, his behavior was much improved when the roomies got home, but he also had time to do this...
I didn't know so much trash could fit in that little can. Also, a shredded tea bag is really fun to get out of the carpet. (P.S. all the calendar pages are Bananagrams puzzles so I can rock the Scrabble board next time I play)

Cruise blogging to follow shortly. The laundry is finally done and most of the unpacking complete. But having to work this weekend may put a delay on the process. Until then, I'll leave you with a teaser.

The good:
The bad:
and the really bad picture-taker:

Bon Voyage

At least with a plan of blogging about her residency adventures month-by-month, Laura guarantees a regular posting. Me, not so much.

I'm sitting here with my eyes literally blurry from exhaustion, or maybe the horrible drying out they suffer from weird airflow at work, or maybe teary from allergies, and wondering how I could possibly be ready to embark on an 11-day trip to Europe in less than 36 hours. Yikes. The Spanish wine that my roomie picked out is not helping the blurry-eyed-ness. However, it is very tasty, not very heavy, lots of earthiness to the flavor (as opposed to fruitiness), and part of the Wine Trials 2011 book that we as a house are working our way through. So far, all successes in my opinion. (sidenote: I just spelled opinion as "opoinion" so methinks I'm about ready for sleepytime)

Anyway, I have a lot that I could write about in my pre-cruise blog, notably the horrible stress of packing or the straw that broke the camel's back tonight at work that had me nearly in tears or the hopelessness of putting together a functional kickball team so I'm not having to eat the $400+ in team fees that I just forked out. But, mostly I just wanted to check in with the online world to prove I am indeed still here. And to make note of the totally awesome James Bond coffee table book that I splurged on yesterday. It's called "The Art of Bond" and was more than 75% off which is the only way I'd ever buy a coffee table book. It just screamed my name while I was in line at B&N, and I knew that I would be a failure as a Bond aficionado if I didn't pick it up. It looks at the thoughts of producers, art directors, set designers, screenplay writers, etc, as they take on the legend of a spy who has lived and thrived in multiple generations. While I've only just made it through the introductory section on the adaptation of the Ian Fleming novels, the book is already a success by one definition. It has reinforced the idea that I do in fact have hobbies and passions. I love James Bond. I love the idea of an icon that spans time, that I can share with my dad, that is brought to life with a couple of musical notes or an on-screen silhouette. I love that for the bit players and instrumental movers and shakers that have brought each movie to life, being a part of Bond has defined their career. It's bigger than any one movie, actor, director, genre, or decade. And I love having something that I can be passionate about, that I can be knowledgeable about, that I can share with others (even if they do think I'm a nerd).

Ok, the wine is hitting me, and the typing skills are going down the drain. I have a lot of packing to finish up in the morning, and the next time you hear from me will undoubtedly be status post a lot of relaxation and picture-taking and adventure-having. I'm terrified and excited and the excited percentage is increasing to the point that it may soon exceed the terrified percentage. Not there yet. Maybe after some more wine. :)

Hurry Up and Waiting

Maybe it was the Valentine's Day episode of Bones that I finally got around to watching. Maybe it's been listening to Lasso by The Band Perry nonstop for the past week. Maybe it's the cheesy novel about a wedding planner that I checked out from the library. Or the speed dating, or yet another Save the Date that is hanging on my fridge, or the constant teasing I get at work, or the fact that my own mother has hinted at trying to set me up with someone. (I have to draw the line somewhere) But, as you may have guessed by this incredibly lengthy segue, I have been thinking a lot about dating and romance and the extreme lack of it in my life.

A little over a year ago, you could have chalked up the absence of romantic possibilities to my own failure. It's true, I was praying for God to land a nice, holy, handsome, funny, charming man in my lap and I was not exactly thrilled at the prospect of having to put forth some effort to meet God halfway. However, a talk with a deacon and long-time friend of the family (at, where else, a wedding) convinced me that I needed to step up to the plate. Complaining only gets me so far. In this case, nowhere. So, for the past 12 months, I have cast aside the skeptics living inside me and have fought my introverted temperament tooth and nail to try to meet some single men. Given my work schedule, I started online. Catholic Match was the cheapest of my options and had the added benefit of including my one "must-have" in every candidate. (side note: I have thought long and hard about the possibility of dating a non-Catholic, and it's not that I don't think that God could have somebody phenomenal out there for me who isn't part of the Church, or that I discriminate against non-Catholics. However, the Church, and my participation in it, is such a huge part of my life and the life I want to lead in the future, that I can't currently fathom wanting to be in a serious relationship with someone who can't share that with me or understand why it is so important.) I will make the long story of my online dating very short by saying that it was full of awkward first dates and not so many second dates. I have maintained two good friends from the process, but have not found it to be a dating style conducive to my personality. I'll get into that more later.

So, a month ago, I bit the bullet and jumped off a cliff that I never thought I would even approach, much less fling myself off of. I went speed dating. And while it was a fun and mostly enjoyable experience, and one I would do again (and again, if necessary), it has led me to a deeper understanding of what I want out of a dating relationship. And it explains why I have found so many failures in a year chock-full of attempts.

Following the speed dating event was a series of emails initiated by the coordinator of the event, mostly revolving around our thoughts on speed dating and dating roles in general. One line of commentary in particular got me thinking. In the present day and age, when women outnumber men in the dating arena, and when women are open-minded forward-thinkers, it has become acceptable for woman to initiate a progression in the relationship. She can ask for his phone number. She can ask him out on a date. On a rare occasion, she might even pay. All this forward thinking has resulted in many people asking me why I haven't asked a guy out. But one gentleman who participated in speed dating had an interesting comment that I'll poorly paraphrase: the man needs to do the pursuing in the relationship or his heart will not develop a stake in the outcome. Essentially, if the woman keeps taking the next step forward, the man loses interest because he doesn't have to capture the elusive prize. And it is the reverse side of this coin that has me up thinking tonight.

Throughout my online dating and the follow-ups to speed dating, I have had to put forth more effort in planning "dates," guessing at the definition of the relationship, figuring out how and when to follow-up, etc. The guy in question has failed to pursue. Sure, a few times, he has expressed interest, but it falls far short of the "pursue" category. And I've been so frustrated because I feel like I'm trying to no avail. And more frustrated because I don't want to have to try. I was a little taken aback when the speed-dating gentleman said the man has to pursue because I felt that the situation would be taken out of my hands. But tonight I realized (not happily) that I want to be pursued. My heart doesn't have a stake in the outcome if I'm not being pursued. Like the game of tag that ends when one person stops running, only this time it ends because one person stops chasing. I want to be wooed. I admit that dreaming big often has resulted in reality seeming cruel, but taking advice from Will Hoge, I'll keep on dreaming even if it breaks my heart.

I want the whole nine yards. I want to be treasured and sought after. I want to know that I'm on his mind when he falls asleep at night. I want to know without a doubt that he will call because he wants to see me again, not just because he feels like a call is the polite next step. I don't want to have to guess as to whether or not he just wants to be friends (or for that matter, whether or not I just want to be friends). I want to be excited about our next date because I know he has something special planned. And it's not about him doing all the work and the planning and the calling. I'm not being lazy. It's just that I've been on too many dates this past year where I had to pay or I had to plan or I had to try so hard to make conversation when it was clear there was no spark. And not once did I feel like the goal of his experience was pursuing my heart. If I had, I would have been more than happy to choose the activity or the location or put forth the money or the effort.

So, men take note. I want to be romanced, and wooed, and pursued, like a pearl of precious value. I think, despite my failure, that I'm a pretty good catch. And so, as much as it pains me to put God back in the driver seat when it felt like I was doing so much to actively help him out, I think I'm going to return to praying for a man who will fulfill the deepest longings of my heart. And God, listen up! I don't want to wait forever.

Drinking and Dining in the Twin Cities (ok, St. Paul wasn't actually on the agenda)

If I were a food critic, my column to close out 2010 and ring in the New Year (by the way, if you add the digits in 2010 you get 3, which is my favorite number...inside joke digression, sorry) would be full of front page finds. And maybe a couple footnotes. Having just returned from a wonderful first trip to Minneapolis for the wedding of some dear friends, I am appalled that in three days, Marijo and I had more fun food finds that I have in a lifetime in Denver. Maybe that's a stretch, but without further ado, here is my Minneapolis recount:

Day 1
The News Room: While I went to the rehearsal dinner, Marijo headed out to find some dinner and a bar willing to show the Husker game. Check and check, mission accomplished at The News Room- a rather large bar/restaurant with each room carrying the theme of a different section of the paper. Giant headlines plaster the walls, including two of my favorites from The Onion, found in the women's bathroom: "Women are smarter than men" and "Miami Police Dept to debut new hot pink and aqua uniforms." But one of the best parts of the bar was the actual bar- a giant ship, complete with sail, rope ladder, mast, etc. Top shelf liquor is literally "top shelf", with access only granted via several steps up the rope ladder.
But, since this is a food blog, let me just mention the highlight: Fried brie curds with blueberry ketchup. Yes, blueberry ketchup. The curds literally melted in my mouth and the ketchup was sweet and tangy, a perfect condiment choice. Best bar food I've ever had. The beer, though pricey since happy hour had ended, was good as well- Bells Amber Ale and Porter, and Schell's Lager. It's a good thing that the bar was such a hit because the Husker game definitely wasn't. Oh, but props to UNC for an exciting comeback finish to their bowl game. Poor Tennessee.

Day 2
The Wienery: Our morning was slow to start since the game ended so late, and we headed out to Midwest Mountaineering, a gem of a store in the east end of the city. Lots of trying on, wishing we had more money. And by the time we were ready to walk back to the train station, we were starving. The plan was to eat downtown because my google maps phone app was not revealing any nearby eatery gems. However, we walked past The Wienery, clearly some sort of hot dog joint. Tiny, hole in the wall, but with a few normal looking people in the window. Since I was ready to gnaw my arm off, we tried it out. This place gave new meaning to the word "dive" but my brat with sauerkraut totally hit the spot. Marijo opted for the "Downtown Dog" polish, with cole slaw, chili and cheese on top. Like a whole picnic in a bun. And of course, let's not forget the giant basket of greasy fries, two whole potatoes worth.
Not a crumb was left. We had a good laugh at the angry customer whose food couldn't be ready fast enough for the poor dog he left out on the sidewalk, and an even better laugh at the poster behind the counter.


The Local: After working out in the fitness center to counteract the two-potato fries, we headed to an Irish pub for dinner before the wedding. The interior was pretty upscale for a pub, done snug style with lots of little rooms offering a more personal feel. Since it was happy hour, I decided to ignore the fact that I was reading in the wedding and had a Boddington's (so smooth), and Marijo enjoyed a wonderful Kilkenny Cream Ale (Yum!). The wild rice and mushroom veggie burger was to die for, and the "better than couscous" quinoa salad was perfect for someone who was still suffering the effects of lunch. We really wanted to stay for the Guinness Mousse, but the only reason they let us have a table was if we promised to be gone in time for a 6:30 reservation. Plus, we had a wedding to get to.

Day 3 (there's that number 3 again)
Hell's Kitchen: highlight of the trip (besides the wedding)! There is no way to convey everything that I loved about this restaurant and our whole dining experience. I only hope that anybody reading this who is inspired to check out the restaurant has half as much fun as we did. First of all, it's in the basement, so you literally descend the stairs into Hell. Second, it's New Year's Day, so everyone is nursing hangovers with Bloody Marys and Mimosas. All of the servers are in pajamas, ranging from flannel pants and a bathrobe to a full red "onesie". We ate at the bar which turned out to offer two important views. Across the bar against the back wall were the "Absolute Worst Seats in the House." On the wall, it described why they were the worst seats in the house, ranging from "You have to deal with the kitchen chaos" (they were right next to the kitchen doors) to "You have no privacy because everyone is reading this." They did offer a free caramel pecan roll (huge and decadent) to anyone who still chose to sit there. Directly behind us, the Jana Nyberg Group took the stage and performed a jazzy brunch set, including a lovely rendition of Santa, Baby and some classics like Fever and What a Wonderful World. They also played some original stuff which you can download for free on their website. Other highlights included Saturday morning cartoons playing on the bar TVs, creepy bathroom hologram portraits that transitioned from normal looking 1800s people into skeletons and creepy creature-of-the-night zombies, meeting a Creighton grad at the bar, and coffee that was described as so strong it is "guaranteed to restore virginity." The place just had a lot of character. Oh, and did I mention the peanut butter?!? Yes, it was phenomenal. Best I've ever had, and a great complement to the toasted sausage bread (yes they put bison sausage in their bread). The potatoes were also noteworthy. I highly recommend this place to anyone.

The rest of the food isn't really worth mentioning. Stuff like mall snacks and hotel restaurant soup because it was too freezing and we were too tired to make any further forays into downtown. But let's be honest, after Hell's Kitchen, everything would have been disappointing anyway.

And, just to sidestep away from food for a second, check out our one-of-a-kind purchase from the Mall of America--Japanese baseball jerseys!
Thanks to Peter and Jenny for a lovely wedding and an excuse to explore the city. Happy New Year!

Simple Pleasures

Let me tell you the quickest way to experience and enjoy simple pleasures in your life--have a really crappy memory! Last night as I was leaving work, I happened to glance at the schedule and realized I HAVE A 3-DAY WEEKEND!!!!! Everybody channel Harry Carey now...HOLY COW!! Yes, I had completely spaced that the schedule was a little jankity this month giving me the Monday off before my weekend, and thus, 3 glorious days of freedom. Even better is that it follows one of my roughest weeks of work in recent memory. Was it because the kids were really sick? No. Was it because the census is super high or turn-around is particularly rapid due to respiratory season? No, no. Was it because some people don't think before they act? YES! And, some people have attitudes that don't mesh uber-well with the teamwork mentality of my department.

And so, after a night of really strange dreams (forgetting my pager at work and then going to return it but convincing everyone at work that I was really an astral projection of myself, and then finding a retractable leash in the parking lot to replace the one Kolbe chewed through), I sit enjoying a giant Marauder's Map mug full of coffee and pondering how best to kick some serious football butt today. Last regular season game, and yet another dreaded reffing opportunity, but you know what? I don't care, because even if it sucks two hours out of my day, I still have Monday off!

So remember kids, if you always forget the good things you have going for you, it makes it extra fun when you remember. :)